I am the long lost child of Oprah and Gayle Winfrey-King. Unfortunately, I am still lost and have yet to inherit my gazillion dollar trust fund. This unfortunate incident, coupled with my love for luxurious fashion has led me to learn how to mix high street fashion with the occasional designer pieces. So until the day that my parents decide to find me, welcome to my version of fashion with a somewhat lax budget. Enjoy!

Thursday, December 23, 2010

About every four to five years, the world of fashion, pioneered by a "visionary" scion (in this case Marc Jacobs for Louis Vuitton), gets together and decides that the curves of a real woman is once again fashionable. Of course, what they usually consider a real woman, D-cup boobs, 24 inch waist, 32 inch hips on a 5'11" frame makes us all wonder what species we actually belong to- I guess the 1/2 Homo sapiens, 1/4 pecan pie and 1/4 bluebell vanilla ice- cream species is just as good as any for us real women to be a part of.

However, since I am somewhat flat chested, I have learned not to fall prey to the hoopla surrounding the different versions of Giselle that pops out during these epiphanies and have remained partial to the heroine sheik look ala Kate Moss or whatever shape Naomi Campbell falls under.

Unfortunately for moi, I have been unable to break free from the congo line this time around and have quickly become obsessed with this season's token "real" woman, Lara Stone. Her pictorials for January's issue of Vogue were simply amazing and affirmed what men, LA housewives, and Hugh Hefner have known for decades; big boobs are great. Even though I am not blessed in that department, I salute all the big breasted women out there and hope in another four years, the return of the decolletage will be placed on a frame a little thicker than a 24 inch waist, thereby getting us closer to a world where carbs are allowed and photoshop is banished.
Until then, enjoy some of this season's "boobified" women as seen below

Lara Stone, January Issue of Vogue

Lara Stone with Husband, I am guessing he is a boob man!?? Love the dress

She is slowly growing on me...

She has already grown on me-My sis

PS: I predict 2011 will be the return of the derriere, not that it ever left thanks to the Kim K's and J Lo's of the entertainment world. As for us straight figured women, I guess we had our time in the 90s.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

After every shopping trip, I start to feel guilty about my purchases-even if I just bought one item. Usually coinciding and throwing me deeper in this feeling of buyer's remorse is any segment out of CNN's Black in America series. If you are familiar with the series, you will know that the journey down to the cave of self and financial doubt, is an expedient one laced with Soledad's seemingly factual and condemning voice.

Thanks to the series, I now believe that due to my minor "on sale" purchases, I will no longer have a retirement income, my unborn children's chance of receiving a stellar education and possibly having a trust fund like all other kids of a different race is out the window, and lastly, as an educated black woman, I will never be married-even though outside of the "Fear in America" segments, I am.

Usually, to escape my race's prophesied fate, I diligently study return policies and meditate on the teachings of Silas Marner (i.e Repeatedly saying to myself: I shall keep every penny I earn and not waste on frivolous wants from now on...). However, during my most recent studying and meditating session, a light permeated my trance and a voice, in the form of a Life time movie character, crooned, "dress for the life you want and not the life you have".

Well, as you can imagine, I crawled out as fast as I could with my battle wounds patched up by my new passport for grandeur-I purchased the following brilliance in that moment :)

CL's sparkly. This shoe deserves its own halo-I have an application out to Archangel Michael...

I paired it with one of my own designs for my Mum's 60th bday.

Close up of the material used in making the dress. Material is referred to as African Lace
PS: I hate my bangs, ready for a change:(

In hopes of eliminating my face from the genus of tortoise species, I am currently engaging the following acne remedies:
1) The Clarisonic Mia brush- the equivalent of a Sonicare toothbrush for your face. It leaves your face feeling cleaner than just washing with your hands or a wash cloth. I love!
2) Water-I have been drinking insane amounts. By insane, I mean 4-5 bottles a day. You can increase this amount; however, I must warn you-you will probably end up reciting "gotta go, gotta go, gotta go" at inopportune times.
3) Try snacking on grapes or cherries daily-I swear by this.
4) The control element of this experiment was Proactiv-I used it as my cleanser with the Clarisonic brush and also used it before the brush so I am currently not attributing any of my improvement to it.

Below are some before and after pictures (not as good as Proactiv commercials but definitely more truthful)

Before Picture

After pictures

My forehead looks a lot better since the Mia

My new friend

Please do not hesitate to let me know of any tricks up your sleeve when dealing with acne/blemishes. Sharing is caring:)

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Born with a good amount of self-confidence, an apparent trait in most people of African descent, I find it necessary to sporadically engage in confidence diffusers in order to successfully inhabit our world of encouraged self-loathing.

My confidence diffuser of choice usually arrives promptly, every month, in the form of my Vogue subscription. However, there are some moments in life, like in December, when the Victoria Secret fashion show comes on television, or anytime Jolie, Berry, or Ms. Knowles decide to increase their public appearances, where, I unwillingly get more than my monthly dose of self confidence diffuser and slip right into an overdose state of self loathing.

Per societal norms, my plunge into self hatred is in direct relation to how much I am liked by others. The more self doubt I cultivate in a given period, the more I am liked. It is understandable, really, who wants to have lunch with the Lil Kim's (circa early 2000) and Kardashians (circa now) of the world? An oversized ego just does not go well with a Caesar salad.

This has led to an addiction of sorts where I go chasing after additional confidence diffusers. My current relapse was when I agreed to attend the famous French cabaret show at LIDO in the Champs- Elysees. Lessons learned are listed below and in no particular order:

1) Throwing one's legs high up in the air so it can touch your nose or your neighbor's nose is a true sign of sexiness-this action must be repeated over a hundred times for any production where you want to come out on top. Be it foreplay, an argument with your significant other, or a job interview; a leg up in the air is always a portal to upcommance. I am doomed since I can barely touch my toes.

2) My stomach is not ideal and sucking in is a waste of energy; this part of the human anatomy can actually be concave without the help of photoshop so there is no use in trying

3) My breasts are also not ideal. I never gave this a lot of thought but I bet a man my age has probably seen more breasts than I have-I am a woman, I do not go around looking at breasts. It was this lack of experience that had me thinking I had a decent rack. Thanks to LIDO and the endless topless French women, I am now acutely aware of my shortcomings

4) The French will always win in fashion

Please do not worry about my welfare as I am now extremely popular with a highly coveted social life. Also, as someone who never sees the glass as half empty, I learned at this production that singing is overrated. If one can successfully apply red lipstick and mimmick the perfect pout, you can one day headline your own cabaret show. I have been practicing ever since- I need my "mojo" back. Of course, this means I will slip down on the likable odometer and will have to start the cycle over again.

Just so I do not stare at Thirty-somethings when they start yapping, I peruse these sites daily

About Me

I am the long lost child of Oprah and Gayle Winfrey-King. Unfortunately, I am still lost and have yet to inherit my gazillion dollar trust fund. This unfortunate incident, coupled with my love for luxurious fashion has led me to learn how to mix high street fashion with the occasional designer pieces. So until the day that my parents decide to find me, welcome to my version of fashion with a somewhat lax budget. Enjoy!